


The Old Guard

by Discessio



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 03:37:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19076701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Discessio/pseuds/Discessio
Summary: Just a glimpse at life back when it was just the three of them.





	The Old Guard

The stack of crated apples toppled and littered the cobbled street as a skinny, fair-haired man sped past, pulling at boxes and sacks to create obstacles for the men chasing him. He yelled up ahead at his comrade, a handsome young fellow with dark hair and an opulent dress sense, also running and hooting at the excitement. 

Ahead of them both ran the youngest of the three, a scrawny, tall lad about 16 years of age. He was clutching a satchel tight to his chest as he sprinted faster then the others, a bright smile on his face as the wind whipped his hair back. His other hand grasping the reigns of a pretty white horse.

This was just an ordinary day in the Old Guard, the three men, Hosea, Dutch and young Arthur. The day started as it usually did, loitering on the streets and looking for an opportunity. Lucky for them Ohio had a decent culture to it, not too modern but enough wealth to feed them.

They set up one of their favourite cons, Arthur posing as a shoe cleaning boy and Dutch his customer. They'd put two seats side-by-side until another gentleman would take up the service and if he was promising enough, Dutch would light a cigar, a signal for Hosea to play his role. Finely dressed and with an exquisite watch tucked into his vest he'd come up to them both and flick it open to check the time, sighing as though there was something on his mind.

"What's the matter my dear fellow? Watch stopped?" Dutch asked. The customer looking between them both. Arthur keeping his head down.

"No not that sir, it's nothing...well, I happen to of lost a meeting with a buyer, ruddy time-wasters I tell you. Only problem is I was hoping to make the final sale today."

Dutch looked to the man beside him and smiled, "May I ask what you are selling? You see I'm a business man, I do well enough, perhaps I could see what you're offering? I know a decent investment when I see one!"

He gave a wry smile, "wouldn't be keeping the wife so happy if I wasn't" winking and turning back to Hosea.

"Well sir, investment is definitely the word! My business is that of luck, but not in this particular case, have you fine men ever experienced the rush of the racetrack?"

The other man piped up, "I follow it in the papers but I have never been much of a gambling man."

Hosea thrust his thumbs into his vest pockets and swung back on his heels, "Sir it is never wise to gamble, there is no business in it, winning however...there's plenty of money to be made there."

"How do you mean?" Dutch asked again.

"Linus Fosseway the second aka 'The Count.'"

The two men looked confused. Arthur refrained from giggling, Hosea did enjoy being ridiculous. Changing the name each time they ran the con.

Hosea continued, "One of, if not the finest, racing Arabian stallions this side of America. I was due to sell him to to a trainer but I fear I've been duped. His loss, to even stud this horse would earn him a pretty penny."

The other man's face scrunched, "So why are you selling it then?" 

Dutch looked from him to Hosea, everything going almost verbatim, "A good point my dear fellow."

"I bred it, I have a dozen or so like him on my estate, but the interest comes from competing. Racing! If they're not a successful line then all it is, pardon my crudeness, is a posh emission."

"Sir!" Dutch exclaimed, "There's a boy present."

Arthur didn't look up as a worked polish into the other customers boot, "Don't mind me sirs, I don't hear nothin'."

Hosea sighed again, "So I need to sell my horse on thus keeping my name and stable circulating, I know it's good stock but I cannot find a decent trainer anywhere who will invest, I find it baffling how no one can see what a potential this opportunity is." He flicked open his watch and frowned. "Anyway, sorry for bothering you, I might as well head back. It's no cost on my part I guess."

"How much do your horses make on those races?" The other man suddenly interrupted.

Hosea shrugged, "Perhaps, upwards of $8000, that's just the intermediate class."

Dutch sat bolt upright in mock surprise, "How much you asking for the beast?" He reached into his jacket pulling his cheque book out.

"It's not like that sir, you pay a deposit and then after the horse is trained and you'll enter it into the regionals, I'll take 25% of all race earnings for a year. If within the year you make less than $50,000 then I reclaim it."

"But you don-"

"Sir I am that sure of my investment."

Dutch paused and looked up quizzically, "How do we know this isn't some street trick? Sounds far too good to be true and I don't see any horse?" 

Hosea flashed him a grin, "You may follow me to the stables for a viewing if you like? I had to bring him to town for the sale that brought me here."

Dutch looked to the other man, "What do you say chap? At least worth a look I reckon?"

The man slapped his knee and stood up, nearly knocking into Arthur in the process, tossing a dollar in loose change at the ground beside him and following Dutch and Hosea away.

Arthur spat rudely and got up, following behind at a distance as they neared the stables. Hosea standing aside the door and letting the other men enter first, nodding at Arthur who was close.

Arthur met the stable hand outside and handed him $30, his eyes widening as he thanked him and disappeared at the jerk of Arthur's head. Once he was gone the young boy crept in slowly through the tack room.

"You see gentlemen, no games, just 17 hands of pure racing muscle and promise." Hosea said smugly in front of the stall with the fiesty, gray stallion.

Dutch scratched his muzzle and tickled under The Count's soft lips. "What's the deposit?"

"It's $600."

The other man sighed sorting through his wallet, "Damn didn't bring my cheque book, you know how these street rascals are, let's see I have...hmm...$450 in cash?" He looked desperately at Dutch who had his cheque book out.

"I'll do you deal, I am a rich man, I see no loss in a couple'a' hundred bucks. I will write the cheque and you give me the cash?"

The man hesitated a moment but looked at the horse again, "$8000 a race if he wins?"

"$30,000 if he comes 2nd at professional level. And a money mine if you put him to stud, just make sure everyone knows he's the fine stock of Aldus McCreedy, esquire."

The man looked at Dutch, "Thank you sir, that's very kind!" He shook his hand after Dutch passed the cheque to Hosea, putting the money into his dark, leather satchel.

"I can arrange a delivery for you as well?" Hosea offered.

"No need, I'm here for an auction dowtown with my brothers and uncle. They'll be more then happy to help me get him back to our manor. In fact they should be waiting for me back at the shoe stall."

"Give me the bag." Arthur threatened, his revolver pointed at Dutch. He'd crept in quietly, only Hosea noticing.

"Woah hold on there boy." Dutch and Hosea rasing their hands and the other man followed.

"Pass it over, I know what's in there." 

Dutch nodded slowly and carefully reached out with the bag, Arthur took and jerked the gun to the side, ushering them out of the stables.

The other man spoke, "Hey, hey kid, you don't have to do this, hell I won't remember your face. In fact I've already forgotten, just let me get my hors-"

"That ain't happenin', turn and run now." Arthur's voice still pitchy as puberty was in full flow.

Hosea went to speak when the sound of rushing feet on the dirt ground approached.

A small group of men turned the corner to see Arthur holding them all at gunpoint.

"You alright Tom?!" One shouted, another pulling his pistol out and pointing at Arthur.

"I'll shoot you ya' damn little Street rat-"

Dutch shot him before he finished, quickly throwing his satchel to Arthur who shot out at the men as he ran back to the stable, missing them but giving him a second. Dutch and Hosea turned and followed, arms pointing back shooting, they ran through the cool building. Horses snorting and kicking at the disturbance as the other group chased them inside. Arthur was ahead pulling The Count along and into the street, running as fast as his legs would let him, the speedy horse going at a steady canter to keep up.

Arthur knew better then to try and mount him, he had the first few times they ran the con but he'd been bucked brutally and made a fool of himself much to the amusement of the other two.

So here they were, the Old guard, pelting down the streets at full pace. Dutch and Hosea who'd spent days familiarising themselves with the town, turned down small lines and hopped walls as Arthur raced to the edge of town to where his young mare was hitched. Just as Arthur got free of the bustling streets he caught Ducth and Hosea in the corner of his eye climbing over someone's fence and sprinting up to their horses.

Dutch hopping on the count and Hosea on his old mare bramble. Arthur had not long learnt to ride properly himself but fearlessly spurred Boadicea into a gallop as the young filly launched herself into a race with the wind.

They whooped and giggled as they finally came to rest, a few miles out of town at their little camp. Susan and Bessie giggling away at something while the men untacked and spread the reward.

"You can get yourself a new beast with this." Dutch commented at Hosea who brushed down his old nag.

"She's doing just fine, I won't spend no mare then a silver dollar on a horse plus, I'm not in need of some spritely little quarter horse like 'Billy-The-Kid' here." Hosea sneered to Arthur and Boadicea who was throwing her head.

"Yeehaw." Arthur joked sarcastically.

Dutch shuffled the money in his hand and smiled at the two, "Yee-fucking-haw indeed."


End file.
